


Elegy of the Wronged

by ctt



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Uchiha Clan-centric, Uchiha Sasuke-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctt/pseuds/ctt
Summary: All his life, Sasuke loved his brother, even when he hated him for what he’s done. That is, until now.Alternatively, Sasuke finds out the truth about the Uchiha massacre earlier than expected. Canon AU





	Elegy of the Wronged

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came to me about how different Sasuke’s reaction will be if he finds the truth about the Uchiha clan massacre before his pursuit and confrontation with Itachi. I though that seemingly small switch in events would have a major impact as Sasuke still didn’t have a trauma of killing his brother yet and how that difference will change his perception. 
> 
> This is also contemplation on love, hate, and indifference. Especially since I felt one of the major theme about the Uchiha clan is love and hate, and how similar they can be.

I - Nine Years of Grief

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.

When Sasuke was seven, he lost his whole family in a sea of blood. His brother had killed everyone. That day he was unable to do anything but watch as all those he loved and knew fell one by one, again and again. 

Father’s bloody corpse on top of mother’s. Uncle Sanosuke’s decapitated form. Megumi-san’s lying in a pool of her blood, belly cut open… 

Even afterwards, all he could do in his frenzy was to drag the bodies into a pyre. His hands had shook as he performed the katon. 

“The Phoenix seal to finish,” the clan priest, Genji-sama, instructed as he rapped Sasuke’s knuckles to bend at the correct angle. “We invoke our clan’s guardian, Suzaku, to give our blessing and prayers to the dead.” 

The last funeral rights of the Uchiha, it was the only way he knew how to honour his people. 

Mother. Father, Grandma Yuki, Uncle Tatsu, Auntie Himiko, Cousin Tora, Cousin Chiyo…

“We live by the flame and die by the flame,” Granduncle Kenshin had murmured gently as they both watched Shisui’s body set alight. Grief had been palpable in the air, as well as horror. Death by drowning. A water-bloated corpse. An anathema to a people who embraced the fire as their element. What more for one of the great hopes of the clan? His cousin, the brilliant son. A kind soul.

“My boy, my boy,” Mother sobbed against the backdrop of Grandma Yuki’s wails. 

He set them all ablaze until the scent of burning flesh drew the ANBU. They had put a stop to his single-minded purpose to honour the dead. He could not even finish what he started. He had been too young and too weak. 

Useless little brother. There is no value in killing the likes of you. 

At fifteen, Sasuke learned the truth about the massacre that robbed him of his whole family. Orochimaru had left him a final vindictive parting gift in his last ditch attempt to posses him. The wily snake had allowed the truth to slip from his mind whilst they grappled for control. The gambit should have succeeded, the shock and denial would have stunned anyone. It had stunned Sasuke, but it did not anticipate the sheer grief that brought a sharp clear ruthlessness within him. 

Sasuke killed Orochimaru. He willingly allowed the man to drive hooks into his psyche. Gave a taste and let greed do all the work. Careless, Orochimaru dove in and Sasuke pounced. He crushed the snake’s consciousness into nothing more than its component parts. 

An eye for an eye. What you said you’ll do to me, I will do it to you as well.

Sasuke stared at cooling body and broke into hysterical laughter. He laughed. Laughed at the irony that the only person who had always been honest with him was the bastard who saw him as a spare part to be obtained. Those who purported to love or care for him were nothing but liars. Brother, no Itachi. Home, no, Konoha.

Itachi killed everyone. 

Absent-minded Kouya-kun. Prissy Saya-chan. Proud Genji-sama who would always fold him origami cats. Penny-pincher Tatsumi-san with the freshest produce. Cranky Tamaki-san who would yell at them to stop playing around. Shy Rei-san. Shisui…

Everyone died at the orders of Konoha.

He did not remember much in his hysteria. He only remembered the aftermath. The shattered landscape of Hidden Sound. The sharp tang of ozone. The swath of molten slag and the last dying embers of black flames. The deafening silence. 

The next thing he knew, he was slumped on the muddy ground. He realised that he had unknowingly decided to wait. A sense of anticipation permeated the air. Itachi was coming.

Face me with the truth, you coward.

.  
.  
.  
.

Itachi arrived in a gust of fire and the strange sweet smell of herbs. Sasuke was first prepared for a burst of rage or a bitter tang of grief. Yet at the sight of the familiar form, he felt nothing. It was a strange feeling, this sheer absent minded ennui. For as long as he could remember, Itachi had always endangered a complicated mix of emotions. Now, it was as if he was looking at a stranger. 

“Sasuke,” Itachi spoke in greeting, a curious lilt in his voice, whilst his sharingan flared to life.

Sasuke found his own eyes responding. The world suddenly blazed in a hyper-realistic brightness. Curious. He could count every single eyelash in his brother’s eyes. Saw the slight twitch of his lids. Viewed at the corner of his eye, the single stand of web spilling out of a spider as it begins to spin its home. Every vein of the leaf that floated by. All the puffs bursting out of a dandelion. 

“The mangekyou,” Itachi observed with a confused hushed, a satisfied turn of a lip. “Congratulations little brother.”

Sasuke did not reply. Stunned. ‘The mangekyou,’ his mind whispered. His memories quickly spinning to the black flames he conjured up in his frenzied destruction of Hidden Sound. ‘Amaterasu, the black unquenchable flames.’ 

‘We call it the mangekyou,’ Sasuke would remember the voice of the Uchiha clan priest that spoke to him about the legendary eyes. 

‘Memory is such a curious thing,’ he thought. He had nearly forgotten that visit. The old man had come during the night with his ever present pet hawk perched on his shoulder. It after Shisui’s funeral, the time he was haunted with dreams of drowning and distended corpses.

“Know this young heir,” Genji-sama would call him for the first and last time. The hawk’s sharp yellow stare was an eerie counterpart to his words. “We do not speak of it for it demands a very high price. It is borne from the all-encompassing grief of a beloved’s death. When all hope is lost and all you wish for is the end. The mangekyou allows you to fulfil your promises and extracts the price of your very own eyes.” 

Sasuke could never understand the significance, until now. It was over. He did not need the truth from his brother. He knew the truth. His brother’s presence said it all. The face, the form, the whole body could not hide anything. 

Yes, he can freely say it now. The man standing before him was his brother. They share the same flesh and blood, and nothing else.

“You are dead to me,” he spoke at last. It did not matter to Sasuke that they were supposed to be fighting within the illusion of Itachi’s making. The mockery of fight with Itachi slowly gouging his eyes out for the eternal mangekyou. It was nothing more than a pack of lies his brother was so desperate to hold as truth.

“This is why I have the mangekyou, even if I haven’t killed anyone that mattered to me, ” Sasuke clarified as he squarely met Itachi’s confused orbs. “It is because you and everyone are dead to me. We may share the same flesh and blood, we may all have shared a common origin, but they are all only accidents of circumstance.”

“Sasuke?” The denial was rife in Itachi’s voice.

“I am sorry, I no longer know you. We are but strangers.” 

“And so will you simply leave me to my rampage?” Itachi demanded, his voice far sharper than normal. “Will you gouged your eyes out and offer it to me?”

“Then do it,” Sasuke replied simply, carelessly even. 

“You absolve yourself from all your responsibility?”

Sasuke watched as his brother clung to his composure by his fingernails. It must have been frightening to know you’ve worked for was all for naught. Sasuke could almost pity him. Actually, he did pity him, a superficial sympathy for a stranger

“What responsibility? Your death? The duty to Konoha? ” Sasuke challenged, before he gave a short disbelieving laugh. “If you want to die so badly, then do it by your own hand. If you want to love Konoha so badly, then go back and serve it with your own hands. I have no part in this.” 

“I killed our whole family. I wanted to. I had to.” A pause and Itachi hissed out, “It was me. I did it.”

The declaration echoed, then silence. Sasuke sighed. 

“I suppose I owe you for allowing me to live,” he spoke at last. His voice was soft. Contemplative even, distant for sure. “Let me tell you this. I know you want me to hate you. I do understand why. Hate and love are but two sides of the same coin. You knew you will still have my love, if you have my hate. But now, you no longer have them. Love me, hate me, I care not. I care not for you. It’s over.”

Sasuke did not wait. He turned his back and left Itachi to himself. Whatever thoughts and denials his brother has, it is not his business. There is nothing more for him. The only thing that mattered to Sasuke is the way to pass the time, in this half-life of his. Sasuke is already dying, he believed it will be soon. The mangekyou assured it.

.  
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.  
.

”The mangekyou is the suicide dojutsu,” Genji-sama murmured in the weak half-moon light. The priest’s blind orbs were oddly intense as he stared at Sasuke. It was almost as if he could see the boy facing him. 

“It appears when the very reason for your existence has been invalidated. The mangekyou will allow you to do your duty and seek your death.” 

A beat of silence. A flutter of wings as the hawk screamed in counterpoint.

“Remember that, young heir.”

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He walked. Walked as far away as he could until he could no longer move. His knees hit the dirt. His whole body ached with exhaustion, lips dry and cracked as a desert.

Sasuke stared blindly at the horizon. Uncaring at the carrion birds flying around him. Indifferent to the sharp gaze of the hawk perched, watching him in an unblinking stare. He boldly meets the predator’s eyes, daring it. Go ahead, his eyes challenged, do what you will.

“Where are you going?” 

Sasuke’s lips twitched in an ironic smile at the uncompromising hauteur of the hawk’s query.

“Far away from here,” he rasped out.

A beat of silence, then the hawk flew down to meet him. Their gazes locked. Sasuke felt no fear. There was something comforting in the bird’s presence. Almost familiar, even.

“Very well,” the hawk spoke solemnly to the boy. “I will take you there.”

“What’s your name?” 

“Garuda.”

Sasuke murmured his thanks before he allowed himself to succumb to weariness. He didn’t know where he will be taken. He did not know what will happen to him. Live or die, when did it ever matter?

.  
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II - End of Innocence  
.  
.

Uchiha Sasuke disappeared when Naruto was fifteen years of age. He was simply gone, just like that.

No, no, no.

Uchiha Sasuke disappeared in a flash and a bang when he was fifteen. The day Hidden Sound burned for seven days and seven nights, Sasuke stood at the epicentre. Shaken shinobi and civilians alike told of flames as black as night that destroyed everything in its path. They brought tales of lightning that lit the sky and shattered everything in a cry of rage. They would speak of the storms that rumbled in a cacophony of grief. Then, they’d shrug and say no more.

“There was nothing left,” was the constant reply.

Naruto would always persist in asking. “How about Sasuke? Where is he?”

The answers he got would never changed. “Gone,” some would say. Others would shake their heads. The rest would turn away.

It was frustrating, galling even, that the world seemed to prefer Sasuke to disappear. People simply went on their daily lives. Some would even joke about it. Naruto sometimes felt like screaming at everyone to notice, to care. But who was he kidding, the world had ignored him nearly all his life even when he screamed and kicked to be noticed. What more for a boy who cared not a whit what people thought and carved his own path, one bloody inch by one bloody inch.

“Naruto-kun,” Sakura would speak mournfully as if she understood.

Kakashi sensei would sigh and pat him awkwardly at the head.

“Let it go,” Jiraiya sensei would chid him.

“You’re obsessed brat,” Tsunade would scold him.

All his friends would sparingly commiserate then subtly tell him to move on. But he cannot. Maybe he was obsessed, but he didn’t care. He had promised Sakura that he will bring Sasuke back. No, not really. It wasn’t to Sakura he promised. It was for himself. It was for Sasuke. Nobody really knew and nobody really cared, but Sasuke was the first person who truly saw him. He would still remember the young boy with a sweet little smile. The hands that had given him his first taste of onigiri. The face that had look at Naruto in askance when he had stolen the favoured hiding spot, but never chased him out. The little figure that would happily skip home, never caring that Naruto sometimes dodged his steps just so he would not feel so alone. They were such small things, but it was like precious jewels to his young self. 

Naruto did not delude himself that Sasuke remembered. It would have been but a drop in the ocean to many. But Sasuke was the first to be unthinkingly kind. Even when the massacre had crystallised him to a brittle facade of indifference, Sasuke was never deliberately cruel.

“My body moved by itself,” Naruto would remember Sasuke gasping out in a splash of red against white white skin. He would remember the cool dark eyes that stared at him before he lost consciousness. He had been spared at the Valley of the End.

Naruto had to bring him back. He would not allow him to disappear. His friend should not be forgotten. Sasuke held many of his firsts, he should be there for his lasts.  
.  
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When Naruto was fifteen, he began to question Konoha. 

Uchiha itachi returned as a shinobi of the leaf. He was reinstated, promoted even. Murderer, liar, hypocrite.

“What the hell, baa-chan!“ Naruto raged. He had so much hope when the news of Itachi’s arrival spread like wildfire. Itachi had arrived at the gates half-crazed, demanding to see the Godaima. Naruto had paced. Waited for an agonising seven days. Surely there would be news on Sasuke. Surely, Sasuke would come back, even just to see Itachi be tried for justice.

Naruto’s elation quickly soured at the aftermath. The bounty for Uchiha Sasuke was declared at 50 million ryou, alive. Dead, a 20 million bounty for his killer. Uchiha Itachi, a free man.

“Itachi has done important work and brought needed information back, ” Danzo replied. The smarmy bastard, replete with his equally smarmy lackeys, stared at Naruto beneath their noses. “There are many things you would not understand, nor would you need to know,” they intoned, those self-righteous pricks. 

Was the price of all those innocent lives, the price of Sasuke’s life, simply the body of a power-hungry madman? 

He would not say it out loud. Instead, he would wonder at the back of his mind. Again and again, he’d delve beneath the shadows and light. Look at every nook and cranny as a seed of mistrust formed. He began to be cautious, suspicious. At that age, he’d learn to hide. 

“Look brat,” Tsunade would attempt to explain, her face pinched with exhaustion. “Sasuke was deemed dangerous because we don’t know his state of mind after killing Orochimaru. Itachi found it suspect as well. It’s for his own good.”

‘Lies.’ Naruto wanted to bare his teeth into a snarl, but he did not. ‘Do you think i would believe such trite trite words?’

Naruto did not push the issue. He fast began to realise the weight of secrets. Secrets, that even with the Godaima’s fondness for him and he of her, could never be trusted. So he slunk back and played his part. He smiled and shouted, acted like the mischievous wretch that people think he is. Better for them to think he was the same eager-to-please boy, he decided. Nodded and acquiesced just like everyone else. Like poor Sakura who deemed the Tsunade’s word as gospel truth. Or like Neiji and Shikamaru, for all their brilliance was equally as blind, taught from birth never to question like good little soldiers. What more for brash Kiba? Dreamer Lee? Gentle Hinata? Unquestioning Sai? What more for all his friends that sweated and bled for the secrets of Konoha? 

In a way, there was no one to blame but Konoha. The ninja live for secrets, but Konoha forgot to tell their young that reality. Poor deluded children, wrapped in a brittle illusion of honour. It was a trick easily shattered to expose the rot underneath. And they never did learn their lesson, did they?

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There was one thing Naruto made no effort to hide, it was his utter contempt for Itachi. It was one thing he’d never stoop to, forgive that bastard. Itachi echoed the same sentiment. Not as blatant as Naruto’s, but the cool indifference he’d bestow on the blonde said it all. 

‘My brother ran away from his duty,’ Itachi’s cool gaze would accuse Naruto. “I blame your influence.’

‘Good,’ Naruto’s snarl would say it all. ‘Better he’s far away from you. You self-righteous psycho.’ 

It made for interesting times in Konoha. Both were acknowledged sons of the leaf. Itachi was the feared son, feared for his brilliance and favoured for that same prowess. Naruto was the lovable brat, the sun to everyone he met with his straightforward idealism. To see normally cool Itachi sneer and merry Naruto bare his teeth at the sight of each other was a cause consternation. But no one could blame them, the weight of a loss hung between them

It all came to head during Konaha’s celebration on Uchiha Itachi’s return. To the people, it was a cause for jubilation. The village had been shocked when news of Itachi’s murder of the whole Uchiha clan spread years before. To know that he was falsely accused and now exonerated, for all his sacrifice, was a great relief. They even went far as to congratulate themselves for knowing all along.

The elders viewed the impromptu celebration with cool indulgence. Tsunade was more cautious. She had swiftly mobilised the ANBU for fear of unrest. Ninja have sharp eyes and long memories, not everyone would be convinced. But she need not fear, the Senju taught Konoha well. It was only Naruto who scowled. Shrugging everyone’s attempts to appease him, he ran off. Itachi soon followed.

“Why are you so concerned with my brother,” Itachi demanded, suddenly appearing and breaking Naruto’s silent contemplation. Naruto admitted that Itachi was a genius. There had been no sign or whisper of his presence, even though Naruto was expecting it. The trail he left had been terribly careless. “You have no weight of history with him, no weight of blood. What do you have with him? A couple of months as teammates?”

Naruto felt a sneer curling at his lips at those words. He wondered if Itachi believed he still had the right to say he cared for Sasuke. After all the damage he has wrought. No matter the reason, it can never be enough. He shot back, “And you, what’s your history? Torture?”

“You don’t know,” Itachi's voice carried the weight of all his choices. “What I had to do to protect him. I was his brother.”

“You really think that?” A sharp mocking laugh. “Because I believe I thought of him as more of a brother than you ever did.”

None of them would remember who struck the first blow. Naruto’s words had been sharp, possibly even cruel. Not that he cared. Emotions had ran high. Accusations were rife.

“So you think you can easily bring him back?” Itachi accused as they traded blows. The man looked truly angry, perhaps angry at Naruto’s gall to call Sasuke, a brother. But Naruto believed he has the right to, he at least cared. He saw Sasuke as someone to be with, to share their joys, dreams and pains together. He was someone to protect. “If he doesn't follow you peaceably, will you drag him back by force?”

Naruto laughed. He laughed so hard that he could not even dodge. His opponent’s blow struck him in all its fury, sending him crashing deeper into the forest. He didn’t care. Blood stained his teeth. His ribs were cracked. He staggered upright and spat out, “Don’t mistake my desire for yours. I just want to protect him.”

“Protect him? You’re a child. A silly boy that is not prepared to make the painful choices a ninja has to make.

There was a truth to that statement, Naruto admitted to himself. This was how he was before. This foolish child who thought he could simply cling to his idealism and change the world through the force of his conviction. That he could have it all. But now, he realised the world did not want to change, and his idealism was just a crutch to cover his indecision. He’s no longer that boy. He has moved forward and made his choice.

He met Itachi’s gaze with the force of his conviction. Slowly, steadily, Naruto replied, “I know I had to make a decision. I’ve already made it. How about you? When you left him screaming the first and the second time, what choice did you make? For his sake or for yours?”

Naruto did not get a reply. They simply stared at each other, weighing, judging, and finding each other lacking. But then, they each have their own desires, their own dreams. It was a matter of who gets it first. 

The conversation was over. The stand has been made. They are at opposite ends of the same side.

“I know what decision you made, and I will never make it.”

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III - The Forgetfulness of Memory

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This was how Konoha moved on, slowly, steadily, but inevitably. 

Jiraiya at first attempted to collect information on Sasuke’s disappearance. Rumours, whispers and even conjectures were sought. No stone was unturned, yet not even a trickle of a sigh returned. It was as if he simply ceased to exist. Jiraiya tried as long as he could, but he had to stop. Akatsuki had begun to actively collect the tailed beast. He rightly deemed their threat more important. What was one more lost little boy? 

Naruto’s friends at first tried to as well. Ino had desperately kept her ears open to whatever information her father’s work gleamed. There was none. Shikamaru processed reams and reams of information. He attempted to draw countless solutions and scenarios, yet none made sense. Sai listened in Root, but even they were stumped. Everyone listened at some point, but there was nary a whisper. They tried again and again, until they stopped.

Naruto did not begrudge anyone for ending the search. This was his task, no one else's. The rest can easily give Sasuke up as a lost cause, but not Naruto. Not now, not ever. Naruto could never follow Konoha in forgetting. 

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Itachi could not forget though. He could only linger. Normally, he would be found haunting the abandoned Uchiha district. He would look at the dilapidated houses, the overrun gardens, and the bloodstained floors. The passing of time would be forgotten, and there he would hover at cusp of his own shadowy memories. More often than not, Tsunade would find him seated at Sasuke’s room, petting an old stuffed animal his brother so loved as a child. His eyes always distant and heavy with regret.

“You forgot again,” Tsunade spoke with a sigh as she settled herself besides him. “You can’t get well if you keep ditching your appointments.”

Itachi did not say anything. He would not even meet the Godaima’s eyes. Instead, he kept on with his absent minded gesture. His gaze, at a distant point in the horizon.

“Do you think it was worth it?” 

Itachi suddenly broke the silence with his query. He refused to look at his companion though and brought his gaze the bear upon the object in his lap.

“I would have done anything for Konoha,” Itachi continued. “But I loved Sasuke too much that I couldn’t choose between them. I tried to choose them both, but I may have failed them anyways.”

Tsunade pressed her lips into a thin line. She watched as a bitter chuckle burst forth from the young man in front of her. He was too ill and bitter for one so young.

“You did what you had to do,” was the only comfort she could give him. Whether they both believed it or not was another story.

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This is how Naruto remembered, slowly, steadily but persistently.

He accepted every mission that took him away to Konoha and into the Land of the Rice Fields with it’s smoking wreck of a hidden village. Any mission, no matter how distasteful as long as there was a possibility of information, he took it in hope of any word. Konoha’s Intelligence Division gained an indispensable member in Naruto. There, he swiftly learned to blend into the woodwork, to be silent and forgettable. Naruto acquired patience, honed it into a keen ruthless edge as his missions took him from one end of the known world to the other. Sky-eyed, golden haired Naruto with his guileless appearance became nothing more than a advantage he used. No secret was safe from him. He acquired personas like a ravenous collector. When the Akatsuki threat became too evident and his movements curtailed by the Hokage and the council, Naruto simple shrugged and went on his merry way. One by one, various people would come and go in Konoha, before trudging back to their various lives. All of them, blonde haired blue eyed men. Merchant Na-ru would then be selling bolts of silk to the ladies of Earth country, his azure eyes gleaming with charm. Fisherman Ru-ne would be arguing with the merchants of the Land of the Waves, his tanned face set in a scowl. With his golden hair gleaming in the sun, Master Puppeteer Touji would be spinning tales along the road to the delight of children. Actor. Poet. Drunkard. Farmer. Woodworker. Medicine man. No one the wiser. 

Surely, Naruto had become brilliant with secrets. Bit by bit, he began to disappear from the village’s collective memory. No longer was he the lovable wretch that shone bright in everyone’s eyes. Perhaps to his friends, his loved ones, and to old-man Ichiraku and his daughter, he still was that beloved figure; but to most, he was just another faceless shinobi in the sea of warriors. This was the only time Naruto was thankful to Itachi, the man’s infamous story having taken the village’s attention and imagination by storm. It had made being nondescript all the more easier.

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Sasuke sought to forget, swiftly and inexorably. At first, he drifted in the half-cusp of memory and nothingness. Days turned to weeks into months, he remained unseeing and unknowing. Until one day, Sauke blinked awake and found himself staring at the oh-so familiar orbs of the hawk, Garuda. 

“You’re awake young master,” a voice observed, sending his gaze sliding towards the opposite direction. He found himself looking at an old man, a priest by virtue of his attire. “Good, you might as well freshen up. I have a meal waiting for you on the next room.”

It was here Sasuke realised he was at the edge of civilisation. When he stepped out of the ancient temple he found himself in, the unknown had stretched before his eyes. The place was a ruin, long forgotten by the world except for the aged Priest Sorata who still served the fringes of men. Men who managed to eke out a living in abandonment.

Sasuke watched, unsure of his place. He found it strange though that the old priest would call him young master. The people, shy yet oddly reverent in his presence. He would not ask. Sasuke was not ready for any answer. The half-meandering life was a comfort, though he would often look at Garuda in wonder and reproach. The hawk had stayed. It would go out to hunt every morning and come screeching back in the afternoons. Then, it would stare unblinkingly at Sasuke, as if waiting for an answer he knew not.

“Why do you call me young master?” Sasuke asked Sorata one day. He did not know why he decided to ask, but he suddenly felt he had to.

“You’re an Uchiha,” Sorata replied to Sasuke’s astonishment. The sound of his family’s name was a jarring note amidst the dull melody his days have become. He had thought that he had left everything behind. Erased everything from his whole existence. “This is your clan’s shrine to the Celestial Guardian of the South, Suzaku. Back when you served the gods more than men.”

“How?”

“Your hawk summon,” was the confused reply of the old priest. “They have served your family since…the beginning. Why would a faithful retainer not know of them?”

‘Forgetting seemed to be impossible,’ Sasuke’s mind whispered. He could see it now, the proud mein that stared at him from the tall shoulder while his young self waited for his paper cats. For seven years of his life, he had seen that sharp unwavering stare. It was the reason why Garuda was so familiar, so comforting. He had been a memory of home.

“Genji-sama,” he whispered with a quaver. All the longing and guilt locked into that infinitesimal hitch.

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It took many a turn of the seasons before a small trickle of rumours began to reach Naruto. By that time, the world was preparing for war. Some of the Jinchuriki has fallen, their tailed beast extracted. The rest had been hidden by their villages as all the Kages hemmed and hawed, debated and bickered ’til they were all blue at the face. The days had quieted to an ominous hush, the Akatsuki strangely silent. Information had become so scarce that Naruto and the Intelligence Division had taken all their days out roaming for any scrap of it.

At first, Naruto began to hear rumours of a wandering priest. A strange occurrence in itself. The threat of war had curtailed nearly all travel. News of a priest was equally rare. Religion has nearly died out the land of the five nations. Only the remote villages and the ancient clans still cling to the myths of the gods, spirits, demons, and the celestial guardians. The strangest of all though, was the acute sense of familiarity any news of the man brought. The ghostly wanderer who flittered to and fro the edges of memory. 

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“All that talk of war makes me ill,” the silk merchant Na-ru lamented to Lady Kurosawa and her handmaidens. His hand had covered his blue blue eyes in a dramatic swooning pose, amidst the giggling group. “To think this morning the guards told me that my wares will soon be useless trash. Those philistines!”

“Now now Na-ru-san,” the Lady Kurosawa smiled indulgently at the charming merchant. “Mayhap this is all talk. If it eases your mind, perhaps you can ask the wandering priest to offer a prayer that the war will not come.”

Na-ru blond brows arched in disbelief, his eyes subtly gleamed with interest. The rest of the group erupted into gay chatter at the lady’s statement. 

“I heard he was very handsome,” one of the women sighed.

“They say he’s a son of a lord who renounced all his wealth and has taken a vow of poverty,” another chipped in. 

Na-ru listened avidly at swirling speculation when the Lady motioned that he should follow her out. Swiftly following the unspoken command, they left the merry group into the solemn halls. Na-ru did not speak. He waited for Lady Kurosawa, a trait she so favoured him for. His ability to listen. His discretion. His supernatural patience and understanding.

“The wandering priest is normally found between the border of the different nations and the unknown lands,” Lady Kurosawa at last spoke. “Last, he was located somewhere in between the edges of the Land of Fire and the Land of Water. Perhaps when you find yourself passing by, should you meet him, ask him to say a prayer, that war may never come.”

Na-ru bowed. He heard the command in her request. To his surprise, she placed a gold coin in his palm. A coin so old, it was almost faceless.

“An offering to the gods,” she clarified at his questioning stare. “My husband may not believe in the gods, but I still do. Pray as well Na-ru-san. War has never been glorious. You are young, so you’ve never seen it, but I have. Remember that.”

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The second time Naruto heard of the wanderer, the sharp tang of anticipation hung in the air. The Akatsuki had begun moving once again. They had split into two groups, one had been conventionally harassing the hidden villages and their hidden demon tailed containers. It was enough of a distraction that few noticed the smaller group who seemingly moved with no rhyme nor reason. Naruto’s curiosity was peaked. He had relished the challenge as he stalked their movements and hovered at the edge of their senses. It was there that whispers of the wanderer began to abound. His dark haired dark eyed ghost, Naruto thought to himself. That familiarity had never abated, only intensified.

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“Fucking merchants,” Fisherman Ru-ne spat out as he slumped in the bar. The barkeeper gave him a sympathetic look as a cup of warm sake was placed in front of him. “Fleecing us out of our hard-earned goods.”

“That bad huh?” 

Ru-ne made a noise of assent and took a fortifying sip of the sake. “Wish someone can do something about it,” he murmured.

“What about the wandering priest,” the barkeeper suggested. 

It earned a look of disbelief from Ru-ne. His tanned face twisted into a scowl as he replied, “What would some prissy little dreamer know what to do with those leeches and their bloodthirsty goons?!”

“Don’t look at me,” the barkeeper protested, raising his hands to ward off the glare directed at him, before he leaned forward to whisper. “I’m just saying what I hear. Word on the street is that priest managed to put Gatou in his place.” 

A gleam of interest twinkled in the fisherman’s blue eyes. He shifted closer, encouraging the barkeeper to continue on talking. “Shut him down real fast and when Gatou sent his guards at him, left them dead. Man ran scared.”

“Must be one of those warrior monks,” Ru-ne speculated, his gaze had become contemplative. It was as if he was in the midst of a realisation he could scarcely believe for fear of disappointment. His musings was met with a disagreeing sound from his conversational partner. He quirked a blond brow in query, earning him a sly knowing grin.

“Well your right about the prissy part,” the barkeeper spoke. “The man looks like one of those pansy nobles. Even has one of those fancy hunting birds they keep as pets. Speaks like one too, if you get him to talk. He’s all the rage with the girls.”

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The man was beguiling siren that refused to fade into memory. News of the wanderer dodged Naruto’s steps, just as the he dodged the Akatsuki’s. He realised that perhaps the group has been hunting the man, just as he’s been hunting them. But why?

Naruto was almost scared of the answer, just as he was elated.

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“Give me story,” Master Puppeteer Touji demanded imperiously as he settled himself in one of the private rooms at the teahouse. In response, Madame Okina raised a censuring brow as she deftly poured him his drink. 

Touji felt a grin twitched at his lips as he observed the disapproving figure of the teahouse’s madame. “Come now, Okina-san,” he wheedled, his blue eyes pleading. “I need a new story to delight people for my shows. Surely there is news out there aside from war, war, and more war.”

A put-upon sigh was the reply he first received. But just as always, Madame Okina’s features softened as she looked upon his huge azure eyes set on a rakish face with a mop of sunny hair. “Write about the priest who’s been wandering in the fringes of civilisation.”

He whined. “What’s so interesting about a moralistic do-gooder?”

“Because he has a mysterious past,” Madame Okina riposted slyly. “They say he wanders the land in search of truth after turning his back to the world. For sure he’s part of one of the ancient warrior clans. He has the manner of an aristocrat, has a tame hawk that obeys his every command, and carries an ancient sword, a chokuto.” A pause as she slowly reeled Touji’s interest. “They say lightning dances at its blade. Rumour has it, the chokuto is an imperial sword, back when the emperor still existed. Do I have your attention now?”

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Naruto knew. Oh he knew. He didn’t say anything though. He kept his silence. Instead he concentrated his energies hunting the Akatsuki. Where they would be, perhaps they will find him, perhaps Naruto will see him, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

Naruto has learned patience. He will wait. He will haunt the fringes of the world. One day, it will come to pass and Naruto will be there.

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“Why?” It was the first thing Sasuke spoke to Garuda, Sorata’s revelation was still ringing in his mind. 

The hawk landed on his outstretched arm, unconcerned. “Because you needed to find yourself, young master,” it replied, making no move to hide its knowledge.

Sasuke found his eyes widening with surprise and disbelief. There was too much memories in the hawk’s address. Too much that he unconsciously blurted out, “I don’t have long to live.”

“You’re not dead yet,” it responded in a voice tinged with affection and exasperation. “You Uchiha’s, always so uncompromising. I remember when I told your father and Genji that they were fools for pushing through with the coup.” A bitter scoff. “And they told me they knew, but they had no other recourse to get their point across.”

Garuda turned the full weight of his will to Sasuke. It was almost pleading, certainly commanding. “I don’t want that for you. So find another reason to live. Find a cause worth your life. If it is not enough, then you can go with my blessing in a blaze of glory, just like your family did.”

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It felt strange, Naruto thought, as he heedlessly rushed towards their destination. Vaguely, he noted that he had far outstripped his teammates. None of them were slouches. Sakura, Kakashi-sensei, Neiji, Shikamaru, Kiba and even the rat-bastard Itachi should have easily kept up with him, possibly even outran him, but not now. He had waited and searched for so long, he couldn’t any longer.

Naruto found himself at a clearing. Too unfamiliar, but it didn’t matter. All he saw was the so missed figure of his childhood. It was familiar yet unfamiliar. He studied the presence in front him, noted the unrecognisable clothing. The rough homespun quality of the gi and hakama, coupled with the confident casual hold on the sword. Still the same slight figure abet taller. A raggedy man in his raggedy clothes. The dark hair now tied in a messy tail. Still the same features, but now leaner and sharper. The dark eyes, cool and honed to a knife’s edge, as they peered past the shadow of the sugegasa, the traditional straw hat. 

Their gazes met. Held for a minute, an hour, a second, Naruto did not know. He did not care. It was only the screech of the hawk that broke their contest. Naruto watched as bird rested on the familiar shoulder. The animal preening as it was petted.

“Sasuke,” he called out.

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IV - La Belle Dame Sans Merci

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Sasuke opened his eyes and was greeted with a vaguely familiar ceiling. It was the same grey expanse of Konoha’s Intelligence Division Headquarters. The dull sight had been burned in his mind a lifetime ago, when he woke up after screaming himself hoarse in a fit. Yamanaka Inochi’s worried expression peering at him as he turned bleary eyes at the man, the massacre still too fresh in his young mind. 

Deigning to rise from the mattress he found himself in, Sasuke turned his lethargic gaze at the room. All he saw was an expanse of a bare space, a sturdy door, and the too apparent stretch of a one-way mirror. A amused smile twitched his lips. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

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It was like a dream. Sasuke drifted past the excruciating familiar hallways of the lost Uchiha shrine. The smell of cedar in the air, the distinct gleam of the oiled wood in the dull light, the swoop and curves of the pine tree seemed to acquire the patina of memory. It was as if he was seven once again. A young boy, proud and excited, attempting to emulate the solemnity around him. He could almost see Genji-sama’s proud back as the priest led him through the maze of corridors into the room. The room with a wall of names. The dark strokes were a knife against the wooden boards.

“The names of all the clan heads and the shrine priests,” he would remember Genji-sama explaining to him. Sasuke stared at the familiar wall. His eyes unerringly zoom in his father’s and Genji-sama’s name. It was at the exact same place. The names had been set near the bottom, easy enough for a small boy to touch. Now he had to kneel to see it. 

“This shrine and the Uchiha shrine in Konoha are the exact same images of each other,” Sorata explained. “Every Uchiha clan head and priest would write their name in two boards. The truer one would be brought here by the hawks as an offering to the gods.”

Sasuke said nothing. He was staring stunned at the two newer boards found beneath the names of Fugaku and Genji. Uchiha Sasuke, they both stated. His hands shook as he touched them. He noted the familiar harsh strokes of his father’s hand and the bold flowing lines of the old priest. 

His mind drifted back. He had been that young stupid boy who had just succeeded in performing the katon. He should have seen it, the strange celebration of the clan for the oft forgotten spare. Itachi had produced a better katon. The heir had done everything better. Yet the clan had joyously proclaimed his non-feat. Even Kouya-san, the next clan priest who normally drifted in the compound like dandelion fluff, patted Sasuke’s head in acknowledgement

“I’m truly sorry, Sasuke-sama,” Sorata murmured. Sasuke closed his eyes and wept for the first time.

They knew.

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Itachi was the first person to visit Sasuke in his cell. It had taken many days before Sasuke had seen any hint of a human being. The hokage and the council had been stuck arguing about what should be done with him. Round and round, they mused about his state of mind, his actions, and his possible agenda having put nary a fight when forcibly escorted back to Konoha. They scrutinised his movements within his cell. Watched to their bafflement as Sasuke spent his days sleeping and meditating, making no demands and seemingly unconcerned.

It was Tsunade who suggested Itachi make the first bid in the interrogation. Sasuke’s lack of aggressive behaviour had tied their hands to any of the extreme methods the T&I Division used. The suggestion was met with concern, Itachi may become compromised as it was his brother. Tsunade had easily riposted. Hadn’t Itachi proven his loyalty many times over?

Itachi looked at Sasuke. Studied him. He found it strange that his brother looked like he stepped out from the distant past. His clothing, his form, lacked the flair of modernity. Coupled with the cool gaze he bestowed on Itachi, he looked like an ancient painting frozen in time. Itachi wondered if this was a sign that he has truly lost Sasuke. Sasuke who felt as if he did not belong in this world.

“Little brother,” Itachi spoke first, breaking the silence. “Let’s not mince words. Why are you here?”

It was a blunt statement. Itachi was hoping to take him off guard. It certainly shocked the hidden analysts whose squawk of indignation rang clearly through the earpiece. Sasuke, on the other hand, barely reacted. He simply met Itachi’s gaze head-on, unafraid of the sharingan swirling hypnotically. Not that he had any reason to be afraid of. Sasuke was a sharingan wielder himself, abet a sealed one. Konoha had been careful to deprive him of his chakra for fear of its use. It is said that to have the sharingan would mean being the master of lies and of truth. And that is a truth.

“To find out the truth,” Sasuke replied, his voice inflectionless. He did not dance around the issue either. Konoha may have sought him out, but it was his easy compliance that said it all. “To do my duty.”

“Revenge?” Itachi postulated. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not that it was what he planned and predicted. Their last meeting was just an inconsequential bump in the road. To his shock, Sasuke began to laugh. There was nothing humorous nor hysterical about the sound. Instead, it was tinged with disbelief. 

“Is that all what you can think of?” Sasuke asked once got hold of himself. He stared at Itachi with an unfathomable expression. It was a mix of incredulity, a sense of rightness, and everything in between. “ After all these years, all the suffering you forced yourself to endure, you still think like a child. You haven’t grown at all.”

He was stunned. Itachi did not know what to say. To be viewed as a child by his younger brother. The brother he watched grow up. It was not be borne.

“Tell me,” Sasuke continued, his gaze boring into Itachi’s madly spinning orbs. “Was that how you thought when you agreed to kill everyone?”

‘So it comes to this. Little brother, you are too predictable,’ Itachi thought. He could hear the shock in the air at the statement. The silence in his earpiece, telling. Sasuke was getting too close to the truths that should not be stated. He is not the child, it is Sasuke, he believed. He wondered how he could impress the gravity of looking beyond the clan to his too young brother, of seeing Konoha as worth protecting. The will of fire that everyone should live by.

“We are shinobis of Konoha,” Itachi said at last. He returned Sasuke’s intense gaze, willing him to see his point. “We are a family that should fight to protect and cherish each other. Our clan limited ourselves to our own stiff-neck pride and never looked beyond everyone else.” 

“You truly believed that? Such a child. To think in black and white. To do things in absolutes. That there is only one meaning in this world and nothing else!”

“We can’t just fall into that curse of hatred,” Itachi lashed out. It stung to be called a child. To see his points dismissed as a unreasonable rambling of one who didn’t know anything in this world. Itachi did not care anymore at all those who can hear them. “Look beyond the Uchiha and see that we are part of a greater family to love, and be loved. That’s what they failed to realise.”

“You use the blathering of an outsider to define us. Do you know what that so-called curse of hatred is? Do you even remember the lessons we were raised by our father, our mother, and all the elders of our clan?!”

Sasuke’s voice rose into a cadence of a shout. It echoed in the confined room. Memories of Fugaku and Mikoto passed between them. In the heady bite of autumn when Itachi first manifested his sharingan, he had stood tall and proud while father had mentioned both his boys to come forward. Quivering in excitement, he had swiftly obeyed whilst mother carried little Sasuke in her loving arms. Father had first looked out at the bloody red leaves of fall, his expression hidden by the golden autumnal light, before he spoke ever so softly. “You are now an adult, not because you’ve obtained the sharingan, but because of what it means to obtain it.” Itachi would remember Fugaku bending down, his hands tightly grasping his shoulders. His young eyes at first could not understand the urgency in his father’s scrutiny, but now, perhaps… “You have no longer have a child’s innocence for you have realised the possibility and inevitability of loss,” Fugaku whispered.

“The Uchiha love too deeply,” Granduncle Kenshin would murmur to the three of them. He (Itachi), Shisui, and Sasuke, the young boys of the Uchiha clan. “That is why we force ourselves to control our emotions, for love can easily be corrupted. It maybe a fool’s errand, but we always try and fail. We love anyway, wholly, unconditionally, undeservedly.”

You say that the Uchiha have no love for Konoha,” Sasuke countered. His voice was whisper soft, a great contrast to his previous rant. “Who are you to use the yardstick that the Senju created to measure love? A kin-butcher who parroted the words of a outsider.”

“If they loved Konoha, they would not have made that decision and forced my hand!” Itachi cried out. It was a torrent of grief and guilt. It had haunted him ever since he performed the bloody deed. Only the thought of Sasuke’s retribution and of Konoha’s safety was what kept him going. To think one, or perhaps both, would be snatched away from him. He cannot bear it.

“If they did not love Konoha, they could have easily packed and left,” Sasuke replied. His voice had acquired an almost poignant cadence. “Any hidden village would have welcomed them with open arms. Instead, they persisted and stayed until all they had left was a sense of betrayal and bitterness.”

Itachi flinched at those words. It was almost as if everything that he has sacrifice was being invalidated. Those words were like unrelenting blows of a hammer.

“You are not the only one that has the monopoly of loyalty,” Sasuke continued on mercilessly. “Don’t think yourself above everyone else.”

With a roar, Itachi lunged at Sasuke. His hands shook as it fisted at his brother’s collar and yanked him up. He could hear people scrambling to get in, to stop his madness. “Why are you doing this?” He demanded. “Is it because you hate me?”

Sasuke stared back at him calmly. It hurt to see that indifferent sort of pity in those familiar orbs. Orbs that used to look at him with eagerness and admiration.

“If I hated you, it would mean I still loved you, that you still have some meaning to me. But you don’t. You’re only a piece of the puzzle that is the truth.”

Those were the last words Itachi heard as he was dragged out of the cell. His last sight of his brother, standing tall and distant, as the door clanged shut.

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Sasuke buried himself in the rhythm of the shrine life. He grimly went about various mundane and important tasks with an almost hysterical like efficiency. Sorata and Garuda had simply given him his space, though they would watch him with equal amount of concern as he would finish his duties with hands cracked and bleeding or toes nearly frostbitten. Grieving is difficult, especially grieving that was interrupted and had been forced to fester for so long.

It had come to head one day, when the old priest found Sasuke scrubbing a pile of old rags. He scrubbed and scrubbed ’til his hands were raw and bleeding, the water pink with blood, and refused to stop. Sorata firmly grasped the wounded appendages. Held them to still, before he pulled the mourning boy back with him to the warmth of the shrine.

“Young master,” Sorata spoke gently, drawing Sasuke’s attention to his hands. The firm sure strokes of a brush as he began to set words to a paper. “Perhaps its time you made the ofuda. Our prayers to the gods invoking their blessing, and our prayers for the dead that they may have peace.”

Clumsily, Sasuke reached for the brush and paper. His barely felt the pull and sting of his bandaged hands. His eyes were distant. He would remember joining his mother on her yearly new year’s visit to the clan shrine. His small hands would solemnly receive the pack of ofudas from the equally solemn Kouya-san, who would wink back at him, breaking the formality. The pack his mother, Mikoto, would always get. One for the home, one for Fugaku, one for Itachi, Shuisi, and one for him, her little boy. 

His hands shook as he place each careful stroke to the paper. He could still hear mother sobs and she took the ofuda from Kouya. His deep bow of commiseration as he gave the prayer for Shuisi’s funeral. 

“Phoenix seal to finish,” Kouya’s voice echoed in his mind. He could still feel those larger hands grasping his own smaller ones. They had guided him in every stroke and line in the paper. “Pen the living’s wishes for the dead and when you are done, invoke the blessing of the gods so they may hear it.”

Sasuke wrote. He poured every hope and wish. One for each person…

Uchiha Mikoto  
Uchiha Fugaku  
Uchiha Shuisi  
Uchiha Kenshin  
Uchiha Yuki  
Uchiha Genji  
Uchiha Kouya  
Uchiha Sanosuke  
Uchiha Megumi  
Uchiha Tatsumi  
Uchiha Rei  
Uchiha Makoto  
Uchiha Chiyo  
Uchiha, Uchiha, Uchiha…

Their names were forever etched in his mind.

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Sasuke set all those prayers ablaze. The katon, he breathed. He stood there unmoving, watching the the white hot flames took his prayers up in the sky.

He did not stir for days.

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Tsunade’s hands shook as she poured sake into her cup. She could not take her mind off her conversation with Sasuke. She had to give that hell-spawn kudos. The balls of the kid to send Itachi into a tizzy, and everyone else who heard, doubting. Even the normally effusive Jiraiya could not met her eyes. It was fortunate that everyone was trained too well in remaining silent.

Finishing her drink in one gulp, she poured herself another. She had been a fool. Rushing into the kid’s cell, full of righteous anger when she saw the report on Itachi’s interrogation attempt. What did some stupid child know about the truth about the Uchiha clan, self-serving liars the lot of them? She had been prepared to put him back in his place. She might not have agreed with the massacre, but they had been the first to act. The village’s peaceful existence was paramount to everything else.

“Who blamed the Uchiha for following orders when the Kyuubi attacked?” Tsunade could hear Sasuke’s mocking voice. It had snowballed from there. Various revelations had cropped up, and there that little wretch had remained indifferent to all, even when his own clan’s name was smeared with mud.

“The Uchiha had no loyalty, that’s why they had to die,” she had said in the end. Surely the revelation of the attempted coup was enough ammunition. A foolish statement, but perhaps she had been looking for a way to discomfit Sasuke. She had gotten her wish, stupidly.

“How dare you judge us about loyalty,” Sasuke had lashed out. “You who fled the village to gamble and drink your sorrows with nary a care.”

She knew she had made a huge mistake. Bloody mind games.

“Tell me Senju,” Sasuke’s voice had taken a sibilant whisper. “If the Uchiha had no loyalty, why is it that it only took two men, one of which is a little boy, to kill them all? No matter how skilled, how were they able to kill a whole clan of your feared shinobi with nary a scratch?”

A pause. You could hear a pin drop.

“They allowed him. I was there. I watch my mother and father bared their necks to their executioner. I heard them say they understood. How is that for loyalty?!”

She could not answer that. Like a coward, she fled. Like a spineless fool, when Danzo and the rest of the elders decreed that Sasuke should undergo the standard torture and interrogation for dangerous missing nins, she agreed. The fact that he seemed to know about Uchiha Madara was her only comfort. And a cold comfort it was.

“That bastard,” she cried out. As to who she meant it by, she did not know herself.

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“Genji-sama had the mangekyou, didn’t he?”

Sasuke spoke when he felt the hawk’s claws lightly pierced his shoulder before its weight was rested on him. It wasn’t a question really. It was a statement. He should had realised what the old man’s blind orbs meant.

“Did he find his reason for living?” Sasuke continued, now with a query as he stared at the now dying embers of all his prayers. 

Garuda remained silent. What more could the beloved companion say? The priest has offered his life like the rest of the clan. Was it recompense for all the real and imagined sins of the Uchiha? Just so their youngest might live.

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Naruto found Itachi in the old Uchiha shrine. The place was a ghost town, dilapidated and falling into a wreck. The man had been standing in front of the mass memorial stone where every single one of the executed members had been immortalised. 

“So that’s why he turned his back at you,” Naruto spoke, breaking the silence. He had been listening to the two different confrontations. It was due to being a valued member of the Intelligence Division. He had seen the near wreck the man had become after that. He could almost pity him, but not quite. “Because he found out what your really did.”

“Shut up,” Itachi spoke dully. All the revelations had been harrowing to everyone. To the rest who never knew any better and placed a blind faith in Konoha. To Itachi and Tsunade who came with too much self-righteousness, only for it to crumble like a stack of cards. To himself who had wished truths were not so painful.

“Cheer up,” Naruto spoke at last. He looked distantly, thinking about the infinitesimal regret tinging Sasuke’s expression. “He might still love you, even just a little. He left you alive after all. Alive to suffer…and to right your wrongs.”

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Two horizons stretched before Sasuke. One was the oh so familiar forests of Konoha; the other was the great rocky outcrop of the unknown. He studied the two carefully. It was strange how these two disparate views could give him the same pang of longing. He would have expected Konoha’s forests to have held more sway. But who was he fooling, the dead cannot be brought back to life just as the known can never be unknown. Yet he wanted to try, to at least know if this world would hold any new meaning for him.

“I think I should go see the world,” Sasuke told Sorata. “Find some reason to live.” 

He could feel the priest’s smile at his statement. Sasuke looked curiously as the man brought out a long package wrapped in ancient silk. 

“I expected that,” Sorata replied as he carefully unwrapped the package. The fabric, yellowed with age, unravelled to reveal an equally ancient sword in its battered but well cared scabbard. A Chokuto with its straight edged blade, forged back in the days of emperors before the new techniques pushed it to extinction in favour of the katana. Sorata bowed as he offered the weapon to Sasuke. “This sword is named Kusanagi.”

Sasuke stared disbelieving at the blade as he took it reverently. It was a legendary blade in the Uchiha clan. The blade whose name was passed down as cautionary stories to children. Stories of love, loss, and betrayal. 

“It is the first sword of your clan,” Sorata continued to speak. “A gift by the Emperor for your clan’s great service. He bestowed his sword, Ama no Murakumo, and with it, the right to bear a blade. The Uchiha clan in the ancient times were only priests and was only allowed the tessen, the war fan. In deference to the Emperor, your ancestor renamed the sword, Kusanagi, and dedicated it to this shrine, the Atsuta.”

“The sword of Uchiha Osu?” Sasuke murmured as he met the priest’s sad eyes. “Or Takeru the Betrayed, as he was known.”

“Yes.” 

Sasuke’s lips twisted resignation. It seemed to be the recurring theme in the Uchiha clan, love and betrayal. He could still remember his mother weaving the tale to him every night. His young naive self, entranced by the stories of the days long past. The legend of Uchiha Osu who loved the Emperor Keiko too much that he renounced his vow as a priest. In anger for such vows cannot be undone, the gods cursed the land. Osu, now known as Takeru, found a way to navigate the unknown paths to reach a new land full of promise. He used the god’s gift, the sharingan, and with the aid of the hawks brought about the Great Schism and the Great Exodus. Upon reaching the new lands, the gods still demanded retribution. The Emperor then decreed Takeru take his life. His beloved turned his back at him and called for his death. Stunned, even the gods fell silent, and they fled the earth after receiving such a sacrifice. 

“Know this little one,” Mikoto would whisper to his drowsing young self. “Love is the fatal flaw of the Uchiha clan, and we are always powerless against it.” 

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Itachi kneeled down at Sasuke’s careless sprawled form. His little brother has spent days in the tender mercies of Ibiki and his torture and interrogation team. His body was canvas of bruises, his nail-less fingers twitched in silent pain, and blood caked his cracked lips. The smell of piss, sweat and pain was rank in the air. Itachi ran gentle fingers at thankfully less damaged cheek as the swollen eyes opened slowly and painfully.

“Tell me,” Sasuke rasped out. His voice was too weak that Itachi had to bend down further to hear him. “Did you really love me?”

“Of course,” Itachi whispered back, “I did everything so you’ll live. I begged for your life.”

Tired orbs met his own guilty ones. They studied him oh so carefully.

“No,” Sasuke spoke at last. “You don’t. Because if you truly loved me, you should have at least let me die.”

Itachi gaped at in disbelief. He could not understand why all his sacrifice was deemed so meaningless by the one it was aimed for. He suffered so much so that Sasuke would have a chance of a life, an honourable life in the service of the beloved Konoha.

“You see brother, I rather be dead than be forced to live, tormented and forced to hate. Manipulated to serve your goals.” A small regretful smile. “Tell me, is that love?” 

There was no answer. It seemed Sasuke never expected much either as he slowly reached and grasped Itachi’s hand. Bright red blood smeared the shaking palm.

“I think not. Perhaps to you it was, a twisted notion of your own self-aggrandisement.”

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Sasuke’s eyes drooped closed, spent. The last thing his eyes saw is his brother’s ghost white features. The look as if he had been stabbed at the heart. He does not feel a sliver of guilt at the sight. He was long past caring. Simply too tired of everything. Rest was what he was looking for. 

‘Just a little bit longer,’ he assured himself. ‘Just one last prayer to say, then I can sleep.’

Sasuke dreamed. He dreamed he was riding at Garuda’s back, laughing and free.

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V - The Weight of Blood  
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All these days, Naruto could only watch as Sasuke decimated each and everyone of his accusers. Perhaps he felt a bit of pity for all those people who left with ashen faces, especially the old hag who had stomped out and drowned those bitter truths in drink, but most of all he felt was a confusing mishmash of sorrow and satisfaction. Sorrow, for no matter what, Konoha had been home and it’s people his; but satisfaction because in the end, a happiness acquired at the cost of bloody lies begged for destruction. 

Naruto was not part of it. He wasn’t allowed. No matter how much he hid his suspicions, Tsunade knew him well enough to get a sense of his misgivings. Instead, he was only allowed to view it at the lens of an observer.

When word of Sasuke’s torture and interrogation reached Naruto’s ears, he said nothing. He only nodded grimly as Ibiki informed him in the driest of tones with eyes that were narrowed and assessing. He simply turned his heel and left, unconcerned with the ANBU that was trailing him ever-so discreetly. 

The next day, he arrived promptly at the intelligence headquarters. Without even a by-leave, he slipped in the observation quarters besides Sasuke’s cell. They were about to begin when Ibiki noticed him. Naruto didn’t cower at his superior officer’s stare. He met it head on, daring that he be dragged out. An uncomfortable tension racketed the room at the two men’s contest. Before it could explode, Ibiki’s features twitched into an approving look. They let him stay, and he did. He stayed at every grunt of pain, every bitten off scream, every brutal sound of flesh meeting flesh, every begging cry for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry. Mother. Father. I’m so sorry.”

When it was all over and when every willing and unwilling information extracted, Naruto would go to Sasuke’s cell. A guard had tried to stop him at first, but Naruto simply gave him a flat stare. He had refrained himself at the first sling of accusations and interrogations. He had simply bitten his lip to a bloody smear at every hit and cry. Naruto had no longer any dearth of patience to be denied. He was allowed to pass.

Naruto could not really do anything though. He could only try to make Sasuke comfortable. He would clean and bandage the wounds and arrange the limbs into a better position. Naruto would sprawl on the cold hard floor, not caring about the stench, offering his lap as he would run absent fingers at the long black hair.

“Why the girly long hair?” Naruto would ask, teasingly, for old times sake. It reminded them both of the times back when they were stupid little boys.

“Dead last,” Sasuke would mumble at Naruto’s lap.”There’s no barber were I lived.”

Naruto would stay for an hour or two, as long as he can, before he would be asked to leave. Without a protest, he would go. Walk straight out, never caring about the blood and gore in his clothes. Once more unconcerned with the ANBU trailing him ever-so discreetly.

The next day, Naruto would be back, and the whole thing would begin again. Again, and again, and again.

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In Sasuke’s memories, he remembered meeting Uchiha Madara in the dark moonlit night. It was the first time he saw the man, the person immortalised in history. It wasn’t surprising. For months, he knew he was being followed as went around the fringes of the world. It had been easy to realise the Atatsuki had been trailing him. Garuda had simply added the final piece of the puzzle that is their leader.

“I know your family by your very flesh, blood and bone,” the hawk had whispered. “Uchiha Madara is coming. Your ancestor who helped your brother in his execution.”

Sasuke had not reacted to that revelation. It seemed a typical story of his clan. After everything else, what was one more betrayal?

“Do you want to know why I helped your brother?” Madara spoke first. He had studied Sasuke in the shadows of the campfire. Noted the stony expression. The supernatural calm. “Why I did it young Sasuke?”

Sasuke sighed. It seemed, everyone wanted to know what he felt about the past. But people forgot that he had already spent everything, and now he had nothing more to spare. 

“Does it matter?” Sasuke replied in voice replete with exhaustion. “You would have done it anyway.” 

Madara studied him carefully. “It’s for a worthy cause, young one,” he cajoled, his voice almost like weaving a dream “Imagine a world were everything you’ve ever wished for is a reality. Where everyone you’ve ever loved is alive and happy, and loves you as well.” He took a step forward and whispered ever so softly, “Imagine that.”

Sasuke stared at the outstretched hand. The whole world was silent and still. The only sound you could hear was the crackling of the fire. A minute or two passed. He raised his head to peer at the masked face. His features had a strange mixture of certainty and grief.

“This is the reason you are alive, isn’t it?”

It was such a curious phrase. Not really a question, for there was no query in his tone, only a statement of a fact. A pause, as if he was shoring up courage, then he plunged in ahead and spoke. “What I want to know is this. Was this born because of the one you lost or the one you are now living for?”

Stunned silence greeted his question. It was wholly unexpected. No one had ever asked this from Madara. Itachi when he first met the man had simply made his conclusions clear and drove a bargain. Yet here was Sasuke with a mind set far back into the hard lessons learned by their ancestors. They stared at each other. The elder watching the seeming distance of the younger who was like a ghost just simply drifting. The younger met the scrutiny head on. Slowly, hands rose and the mask dropped to reveal a face from the annals of history. It was still the same features that every child in Konoha had traced from their books, but here it was without the gloss of legend. More tired, harsh, and oh-so-broken.

Dark eyes met equally black orbs. 

“Young Sasuke,” Madara spoke ponderously. “No,” he stopped himself. The was no mockery to it, just a thoughtful expression tinged with and odd sort of consideration. 

A pause.

“Young heir,” Madara at last spoke in a decided approval, almost as if he now viewed Sasuke as something else. It was so different when he called Sasuke young one. Now, it was as if he was looking at an equal. “It is the former. Finding a new reason to live is just a pipe dream.”

Madara smiled the same bitter smile Sasuke would often view at the mirror. “Just ask Garuda and how the hawks remembered Osu’s tale.”

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Sasuke drifted to consciousness. In the hazy bout of agony, he felt a soothing rhythmic petting at his locks. It was such a relief, the only sense of comfort in the long stretch of pain. He felt a pang of fondness to Naruto, his only bright spot. Still the brash bright boy, even if tarnished by reality. 

Sasuke heard a sigh. He felt a slight pause in the soothing movements.

“Why did you allow yourself to be brought home?” Naruto spoke. It was a serious question. The first he asked, after all the inane ones he used at Sasuke as a distraction from the torment.

He didn’t speak at first. Such a question demanded a thoughtful answer. Even if it only meant much to both of them and not to their eavesdroppers. Sasuke thought of Sorata and the people living in the grace of the Atsuta temple, of Garuda. He remembered the priest bowing back as Sasuke said his farewells.

“We’ll wait for you, young master,” Sorata had entreated with the people behind him.

He remembered the hawk staring at him with keen eyes. 

“We watched your family rise and fall,” Garuda spoke with the weight of all his ancestors. “But we’ve always wanted you to fly.”

Sasuke licked his dry lips. He breathed out, “Because I was searching for a reason to live.” 

“And did you find it?”

Sasuke shook his head in a negative. He wheezed out, “I don't know why i’m telling you this.”

“Maybe because you want to live, somehow.”

Sasuke closed his eyes and does not say more. What can he say? He has taken the path of all the Uchiha’s who have ever awakened the mangekyou. Not one of them has ever come back to live a long full life.

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Garuda turned an intense stare at Sasuke. He was at first fierce in Madara’s presence and then defiant in the face of the pessimistic statement. But in the end, the hawk turned contemplative as he spoke in the familiar cadence of the Tale of Osu, the story of the mangekyou.

The gods were said to have gifted Uchiha Osu with the sharingan. When he turned his back at them for a man, they wanted to undo their blessing. But a gift given can no longer be taken back, so they cursed him instead. The sharingan formed into the mangekyou. It is the dojutsu that heralds your death, and possibly your betrayal.

The sharingan is the gift from the gods, the mangekyou their curse. 

“I’ve never met Osu but my grandmother used to speak of him,” the hawk spoke with a deep sigh. “She called him her noble foolish boy. She would have defied the gods and men for him, but he refused.”

Uchiha Takeru nee Osu went to his death willingly at the behest of his beloved, even if those who loved him equally begged him to live.

“They say grandmother was never the same again. We have never spoken of it, in so long.”

“Yet you used to speak of that tale to Izuna and I,” Madara spoke, his gaze as equally pensive as the hawk’s. It had caught Garuda’s and Sasuke’s attention. It was as if they were all back in time, back when the days seemed to be simpler. “What changed?”

“We were all very young back then.”

“And now?” Madara asked in an upward curve of a brow.

“We are old creatures, filled with regret.” 

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He was so tired. Itachi’s blurred featured swam into his view. Sasuke breathed in. He breathed out. One. Two. Three…

Four.

“Tell me,” Sasuke rasped out, barely able to speak. His whole body was wrapped in agony. “Did you truly love me?”

He wondered why he was asking such a question. But then in the shadow of agony, it was so easy to look back into the past, to all those simpler days.

Itachi swallowed. A pause. Sasuke waited for his brother’s answer with baited breath. Funny that no matter how much he denied everything, he could still not let go.

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Madara turned a feverish gaze at Sasuke. His voice had taken an sonorous echoing quality in the silence.

“It has been lost in time, but you must now remember it,” he whispered with such urgency. “There are two stages of the mangekyou. The first is loss, the second is betrayal.”

“Brother said we had to take the eyes of another Uchiha?”

Madara sneered at those words. It was a horrifying sight, his features distorted by a heavy weight of loss, the loss of faith.

“Lies,” Madara hissed, nearly apoplectic with rage. “Don’t believe the lurid imaginations of outsiders. If the eternal mangekyou was easily obtained by that, Izuna should not have died. We would have simple traded eyes and be done with it.” He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and continued, “It’s you that is betrayed by the one you love the most.”

Sasuke felt a icy chill seep into his very soul. A faint shudder ran through him while Garuda offered him what little comfort he could give by his shoulder.

“Most Uchihas never reach the second stage because the loss of the loved one is the literal loss of life, but not with us.”

Madara's voice dropped with the weight of all the yesterdays.

“Not with us…”

His eyes gleamed red in the moonlight.

“I would have given up everything not to have felt that. Would you not help me, young heir? To rid this world of our curse.”

The plea was a poignant reminder to Sasuke. He looked back and realised those innocent days when he hid inside the cabinet at his father’s study. The ringing arguments between Fugaku and Granduncle Kenshin he had heard yet barely comprehended. He understood it now, his granduncle’s pleas for father to see Konoha’s faithlessness and his wish for the children to live. He now could see Granduncle Kenshin and his bone-deep weariness. “People deride us for our stiff-necked pride,” he lamented. “Does it matter if that is not what we believe in? Sometimes we become what other’s perceive us to be, even if it was all lies not of our making.”

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“Of course,” Itachi whispered, voice quavering. “I did everything so you’ll live. I begged for your life,” he pleaded for understanding. 

Sasuke could feel the pang of sympathy for his brother’s entreaties. It seemed to grow with every hitch of breath, every click of the tongue. He reached for his brother, just as suddenly a crow cawed in counterpoint. Sasuke’s eyes were drawn to the bird perched in at the shoulder. A blood red orb met his, a spinning pinwheel with no respite, urging. 

‘Shuisi,’ his mind acknowledged like harsh slap of reality. It was always the same wasn’t it? He was still the seven year old boy, forced to watch his parent’s execution a thousand times. He was still the fool being forced to dance by the strings held by another.

Sasuke felt tears gather at his eyes.

“No,” he sobbed out ever so softly. His eyes closed.

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“Your brother is a fortunate one,” Madara spoke with a biting curl of a lip. “He doesn’t have the complete Mangekyou. He has never truly experienced the loss and betrayal of one who was loved by us beyond reason. He has only experience loss by renunciation.”

Sasuke does not speak. There is a reluctant understanding between, a weight of treachery that you would never wish upon anyone.

Madara shook his head in reluctant envy as he toyed with the tessen he cradled lovingly in his hands. The metal was ancient, nearly fragile with age, yet so well cared for. It had been his last link to Izuna. He scoffed, “Perhaps it is better because he is able to scrabble to live, while we drift in a half life, trying to find a way fulfil out vows and leave this world.”  
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“You don’t,” Sasuke spoke as his tears spilled and seeped into the cold hard ground. It was strange to think that after all his professions of indifference, the truth still cut too deep. “Because if you truly loved me, you should have at least let me die.”

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“Young heir,” Madara murmured. “Will you?”

Sasuke closed his eyes. The burden of truths were too heavy. His hands clenched. To live in such a world, to see everyone once again, even just one last time. It was a beautiful wish. An impossible dream.

“I can’t,” he replied reluctantly. He squarely met the entreaty forward for such a request should be faced head-on. Fugaku always told him that. “I’m sorry, but I cannot un-know the known. I will always know it’s a lie. I don’t have the strength to wonder day in and day out if the beloved brother before me, the home I knew, is the same as the butcher that killed everyone that I loved.” 

I’m sorry, so sorry.  
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It was time. Sasuke could feel it down to the marrow of his bones. There was going to be an end, one way or another. All what was needed to be said had been said. He has faced Konoha and still found it lacking. Now all he had was hurt and a sense of weariness that would never fade. Sasuke wondered in fact if he was still a fool for listening to Madara and finding his way back to the village. After all that he’s seen and heard, there is nothing he would want from them. He was only tired.

He drifted to consciousness at the creaking of an opening door. Bleary eyes were greeted with the sight of the stiff backed nins marching in. Feeling no curiosity and only malaise at the sight, he watched the odd procession in his cramped cell. All this pomp and circumstance as the Godaima stepped in, then followed by an old man. Sasuke’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of the decrepit form. His heart drummed into a rapid staccato as he noted the bandaged eye, the arm cradled into a sling, and the click-clack of a cane. 

Danzo. 

Hysteria burbled through Sasuke. He could do nothing but laugh. Never mind his broken form. He doubled into demented cackles, as everyone watched him in horror. Blood spilled in counterpoint. Bright red against the grey stone.

‘Grief never ends, does it?’ Sasuke's mind mocked himself as it drifted to Madara’s equally stricken miasma in their parting. He could still remember saying that he wanted to fulfil his vow to Garuda, and the heavy gaze the man fixed at him. 

“Go to Konoha then,” Madara whispered into the horizon. “That’s where everything started, that is where it should end.” He turned a knowing look at Sasuke. It was replete with too many regrets, even if he could never apologise for the path he has set himself in. “Your clan deserve peace. Give them your prayers at the land where their blood was spilled, and perhaps they might too give you an answer as to how to live.”

Those last words echoed in his memories. Sasuke now realised what the man meant. This was the truth and duty he was compelled to speak of. He did not know at first, but now he knew. He could feel it. The clamour of betrayal, hear the cries of sorrow, and sense the familiar burning warmth of fire. Eleven souls were left.

“Uchiha Sasuke,” Danzo intoned to the still chortling boy. “You have been found guilty of consorting with the enemy, Uchiha Madara and the Akatsuki. In this state of war, your sentence is death, for the good of Konoha and all the other nations. All the Kages will see your execution as our village’s commitment to the alliance.”

Oh he laughed ’til there was no strength remaining in him.

‘Will you take my eyes too?’  
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Naruto hurriedly hauled Sasuke upright. The wounded man let out a muffled scream of pain, but Naruto did not have time to be careful. They only had a couple of minutes to sneak out before people will notice the escape attempt. Naruto had planned this all carefully. Timing it precisely to the arrival of the various kages when all of security and manpower was focused on the various dignitaries. He even summoned a kage bunshin in his place as Lee’s partner to further the deception. He felt a bit guilty for using Lee as a smokescreen, but needs must.

Naruto quickly slapped a genjutsu scroll at the cell. The scroll would cast an illusion of Sasuke’s continued presence inside, as well as subtly influencing any observer to be preoccupied with other concerns. It would give them ample time to distance themselves from Konoha before the alarm would be raised. By that time, Naruto hoped they would in the protection of Mount Myōboku and the great toad sage.

Sasuke’s eyes fluttered open as he gave a whimper of pain. 

“Come on, just a bit more,” Naruto entreated as they navigated the various secret passages within the Intelligence Division. He was tense, ready for a fight. There should be no one to see them, he planned so, and the subtle gengutsu he cast for them to be forgettable as an extra insurance should be enough. But still, one can never be too prepared.

“Naruto,” Sasuke slurred out when they found themselves outside. They had thankfully managed to slipped out unnoticed in one of the hidden exits that led straight out to the forest. “Stop,” he spoke as he pushed out of the steadying grip. “I need to come back.”

Naruto sputtered out in disbelief. “They’ll kill you,” he snapped out angrily. “What’s so important that you have to come back.”

Naruto blinked in shock when gentle hands cradled his face. It brought his rant into a halt and he found himself facing a bruised and bloody features. A small upward curl graced those lips in a fond look as Sasuke spoke, “I have to.” Before his features took a mulish cast, “Now let me do it.”

Naruto felt fingers lightly brushing his cheek before his companion stepped away. “Garuda,” Naruto heard Sasuke call. It was followed by a answering screech of a hawk which appeared at the horizon.

Sasuke bestowed a crooked smile to Naruto as he went to met his approaching summon. Naruto scowled. He wanted to wring that stupidly independent ass’s neck. Always foolishly going out on his own, never thinking about the people he would be leaving behind. Especially now when the bastard’s chakra was still sealed. Naruto noted the swaying form, nearly replete with agony and exhaustion. He gave a loud sigh. Decidedly, he ran to Sasuke and grabbed the idiot. Stunned features met his glowering ones and he leapt towards Garuda. 

“You win bastard!” Naruto barked as they landed on the hawk’s back. “Let’s go, do what you need to do, and scram fast.”

“Dead last,” Sasuke hissed exasperatedly. “You can’t be seen with me. What about you dream…”

“Shut up,” Naruto hissed back. He grabbed Sasuke by the shoulders. He was so tempted to shake the self-centred ass until his teeth rattled and he got how important he was through his thick stubborn skull. He didn’t though. Instead, he spoke through gritted teeth, willing the man to understand. “Just shut up.”

Their eyes met. They stared for a minute, maybe a second as the wind whistled through their ears. Eyes softening, Sasuke sighed. Naruto felt a loosening in his gut in response. His hands dropped from the bony shoulder. Sasuke shook his head and resignedly spoke, “Alright.” 

Nauto felt himself smile in abject relief.

“Come on,” he spoke with a grin. “Let’s get you out of these seals.”

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VI - Requiem Æternam

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They came with a bang. An explosion ripped through the air, sending shockwaves through the entirety of Konoha. Naruto jerked back in shock. His kage bunshin had been dispelled by the force, bringing visions of cracked streets, ripped walls and overturned carts. He could still see the splashes of black and red colours that denoted the cloaks of the Akatsuki. The angry hollers of the various Konoha shinobi as they meet the threat head on. He let out a torrent of curses. His mind ran a mile a minute, noting possible points of entry and targets.

“Where to?” Sasuke spoke, breaking Naruto’s foul-mouthed litany. “We’ll drop you off there.”

Naruto turned incredulous eyes at his companion. Yes, he wanted to help, but he could not leave Sasuke. This past few weeks have been a harsh lesson in the brutal reality that is Konoha. It was hard to truly trust with all the rot that has been completely laid bare.

Sasuke sighed at Naruto’s hesitation. “Just go,” he said, exasperated. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.”

“What about you? I said we’ll go together.”

“I can take care of myself,” Sasuke snapped back. “Then come and met me when you’re done! You’ll find me where Danzo will be.”

It gave Naruto a pause, that revelation. He gave a hesitant look. There were too many inherent dangers trying to confront the so-called shadow ruler of Konoha. Tsunade may be the hokage, but long has Konoha unknowingly marched under the beat of the man’s drum. Naruto could not stand to watch the bloody conflagration of their meeting and the ensuring destruction it would bring. And at the back of his mind, he dreaded the aftermath should Itachi interfere and choose the village over his own brother. The man had after all made the same choice so long ago.

Naruto was to speak when a bloody hand slapped over his mouth to stop his words. “Trust me,” Sasuke demanded. Naruto met the intense stare head on, willing his friend to see that he did. There was no need for thought or contemplation, no need for a pause, he would always trust Sasuke. No need to ask. But this was more than trust, this was the future, their future.

Sasuke let Naruto go, satisfied with what he saw. “Here,” he spoke as he shoved a piece of paper in Naruto’s hands. “It’s an ofuda,” he clarified at the confused expression he received. “Asking for the god’s protection.”

It warmed his heart. Naruto’s face split into a huge grin as he bent to study the prayer charm he was gifted with. He noted the flowing script that entreated for aid, and the oddly messy scrawl that was his name, freshly written. Shocked, he stared at the rapidly browning kanji. His eyes were drawn to Sasuke’s right hand and the bitten finger, bright red at the tip. 

“You freak!” Naruto screeched in horror. “Did you just write my name in blood?!”

The eye-roll was too eloquent. “Idiot, do I look like I have writing tools here?”

That wasn’t the point, Naruto wanted to say. The point was you can’t just willy nilly injure yourself for something so small. Naruto was ready to shout, he really was, but Sasuke easily cut him off. ‘Stuck-up brat,’ Naruto thought to himself with a faint hint of fondness. He missed this.

“We’re here,” Sasuke said, topped with a all too familiar scowl. Naruto gave a blank look, uncomprehending at to what was meant. It was just before he felt a palm rest at his chest. Suddenly, he found himself thrust out into the air, falling. 

“You bloody bastard!” Naruto roared.

“Find me when you’re done,” he heard Sasuke shout out to him as he flew away. Naruto swore. It was a nostalgic feeling, wanting to punch that inconsiderate bastard’s face. 

The wind whistled past his ears. The sound of battle was at first faint, but was getting stronger and stronger. Naruto gathered his chakra. He drew the wind towards him, and dove straight into the heat of fight.

“Rasengan!”

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Sasuke could not help but snicker to himself. Naruto’s colourful curses was still ringing at his ears as he and Garuda flew away. He could also feel the hawk’s amusement. It was a good light-hearted moment, a respite before the inevitable grim task.

“Do you feel them?” Sasuke asked Garuda, sobering quickly. He wanted to be sure that what he sensed was not a product of inexperience or a hallucination from all the agony.

“Eleven of them,” Garuda confirmed. His voice dropped to a whisper as he continued, “I will never be wrong for Genji-sama is with them.”

Sasuke was silent at the revelation. His hands absently traced the feathers at the bird’s back, before curling into a shaking fist. He knew what the hawk was speaking of. He sensed it. For a moment, he thought was going mad as he lay wracked in pain. Sprawled in his own blood and urine as he laughed like a lunatic in front of all Kooha’s finest. To sense the faint hint of the old man, his father, Auntie Himiko, Shuisi, and so many more. They were all the men and women he loved so dearly. 

They were near. Sasuke could feel it. Slowly, he opened the sealing scroll he had strapped in preparation. A fool’s task, he had at first thought. He had never expected things to come to this. Perhaps he had been naive to think that his name meant nothing, that his family was another forgotten piece of history, no matter how recent. How wrong he was. 

He took out the ofuda and placed it within the folds of his gi. The Kusanagi followed. Reverently, he grasped the handle and unsheathed it. It was time. Lightning sparkled at it’s blade.

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Tsunade bit back a curse as she saw Sasuke head towards them. When the alarm sounded, she had begun the evacuation to various safe houses. She had sent her squads of ANBU to lead the various kages in differing protected sites. They had been stretch thin with the war, and now the attack. She and Itachi were the only ones left to escort the Konoha elders to another secure location, when the boy had ambushed them.

The balls of the brat, she’d give him that. He was still obviously injured. Even with his hawk summon and a blade, he was still clearly outmatched. To take on shinobi of her caliber in his state was suicidal. Tsunade met Itachi’s eye, ordering him to guard the important personages. She’ll personally teach the wretch a lesson as she leapt towards him. 

It was a strange fight, Tsunade realised. Sasuke swiftly and surely, dancing like the wind. He hawk was seamlessly covering all the holes in his defence and offence. No quarter was given. His lightning infused chukoto was effective in keeping her at bay. Her fists met his blade as he moved to block her chakra-infused punch. Their eyes met. She was stunned by the almost absent-minded regard he gave her. It was as if she was beneath his notice. He wasn’t even at the fight, his eyes focused on a distance. Another goal and she was nothing more than a strange barrier he must pass. She had leapt back, not wanting to end up in a twitching mess. The lightning was doing its work to slowly chip her defences. Her strike had done nothing to the blade. As she regained her bearings, she was stunned he was no longer there. Sasuke had twisted past her with nary a whisper, rapidly bearing down to the cluster of Konoha’s advisory council. Rushing to stop him, she found her way blocked by a masked man.

“Madara,” she spat out. There was no need to second guess who faced her, Itachi’s descriptions had been specific. “I should have known. You’re not going to win,” she cried out her defiance.

To her surprise, he statement was met with laughter. There was nothing mocking about, it was sheer amusement. She had been so taken aback that he was simply able to get under her guard. She found herself on the ground, easily restrained, while a hand fondly patted her cheek.

“All the dramatics,” Madara sighed in abject mirth. “Hashirama also had a stupid flair for that.”

She threw him off with a snarl. ‘How dare he,’ she thought as she sent a flurry of strikes his way. To think he had the gall to talk to about her grandfather after all he did. She was further incensed by his almost playful dodging. He was barely minding her, his attention clearly behind. She saw her chance when an explosion rocked the ground. She didn’t mind it, all intent at the slight start of surprise he gave. It was a infinitesimal pause and she pounced. She saw it. Her fists made contact, just for a second. It was featherlight touch then he twisted away. Hands roughly grabbed her still as the sharp edge of a kunai grazed her throat.

“Look,” he commanded, all lightness gone. “I didn’t come here for Konoha. I came here to see the end of what was wrought.”

Tsunade’s eyes widened at the sight before her. She forgot the harsh grip that restrained her. She could barely feel the blade grazing her throat. She swallowed. One, two, and rasped out, “What our clan wrought?”

A light mocking chuckle brushed her ears. She was let go as she fell to her knees, bereft of strength.

“Not everything’s about you Senju,” Madara derided. “This had begun long before our meeting.”

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A clash. A clang. Itachi easily met Sasuke’s blade with his own weapon. He wondered were his brother had gotten the ancient sword. His mangekyou could see it. It wasn’t any newly forged blade, the sheer weight of history coated the weapon and seeped into it’s very essence. But even its teasing mystery could not detract Itachi from his task. He would not let Sasuke pass. It was only a matter of time. His little brother was too injured to continue fighting for long. Even with his summons’s faithful assistance, they were barely a match to him.

“Enough Sasuke,” Itachi entreated as they faced each other. Sasuke was clearly near his limit. He was panting in effort. Sweat beaded his brow. Drops of bright red blood littered the ground. 

Sasuke stared at Itachi. His hawk has settled gently at his shoulder, matching the stare of its master, before it gave an affectionate nip at the ear. Itachi felt a pang of regret at the sight. No longer did his little brother follow him with a smile replete with happiness, or stretch out his arms to be carried and held. Instead all he had was a space between a battlefield and a cool distant calculation of a stranger.

“Yes, we should stop,” Sasuke replied. A blink and Garuda launched itself up in the air and dove towards Itachi. He dodged. The slight millisecond of a distraction was enough for his brother to vault over. Itachi could easily predict it. Initially to him, the move had been transparently desperate. But he was wrong, he was’t fast enough. It was too swift. How could Sasuke be so fast? His fingers could only brush the ends of his brother’s long tail of hair. Then, he was too far away.

He would not reach them in time. Itachi’s mangekyou spun crazily. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. His hands reached out in futile desperation. The billowing sleeves of Sasuke’s gi as he raised his sword to strike. The immense flash as lightning crackled at the blade. The loud whistling fury of the wind as Danzo raised a counterattack with his shuriken. The scrambling forms of the rest of the elders as they ran away from the danger. 

Itachi watched as lightning slashed out like a whip and burst into flames. It crashed into the buzzing blades roaring with the might of the hurricane. A flash and a bang, the two strikes met. Silence.

The smoke was thick in the air. The force of the blast had sent everyone sprawling to the ground. Itachi shakily stood as the dust slowly cleared. Bit by bit, shadowy forms started to take shape. He strained to see. The beat of his heart was a sharp staccato as those forms took familiar cast. It cleared first to show Sasuke, his figure bent in immense pain. He curved against the sword that had been planted upright in the ground. Great hacking coughs echoed as rich red ichor spilled in each sound and heave.

“You won’t win here,” Itachi pleaded at the seemingly pitiful sight.

An amused tilt of the lip was Sasuke’s reply as he angled his heard to peer back. A crimson pattern greeted Itachi’s sight. Sasuke’s eyes had gleamed crimson from two different pinwheels, spinning as one. Shocked, he realised this is what the curiously immense speed came from.

“The eternal mangekyou sharingan,” Itachi breathed out in shock. “How? We are the only ones left?”

“Do you still believe that fairy tale not even of our own making?” Sasuke replied, his voice has acquired a rasp of a man teetering at the brink of collapse. With a tired shake of his head, he muttered, “Still so blind after all these years.” A pause. “Look,” he urged, just as the smoke fully cleared to reveal Danzo.

“No,” Itachi railed his denial at the sight.

“Look at that and tell me if you remember Osu’s, nay, Takeru’s tale.”

Itachi could only stare in horror. He wasn’t shocked truly. He suspected, knew even, for he neither been blind nor stupid. But he had been a fool to think it did not matter, and now it seemed he will face the consequence of his wilful blindness. Danzo Shimura stood bereft of his bandages, revealing his right eye gleaming with an Shuisi’s dojutsu and the right arm glistening with ten more eyes of the Uchiha. What he did not expect was all eleven them was with the complex pattern of the eternal mangekyou sharingan.

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“They say Takeru’s sharingan took an even stranger cast from the one cursed by the gods,’ Uncle Tatsu weaved his tale to the awe-struck Uchiha children. His eyes glinted red in the roaring fire in counterpoint, much to the young ones’s delight and the parents’s indulgence. “The emperor’s orders that he offer his life up as a sacrifice warped his cursed sharingan into something even more perverse. It was after all betrayal of the highest calibre.” 

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“What the fucking hell!” Naruto raised his voice out in disbelief. He had arrived just in time as the smoke began to dissipate. The explosion had caught his attention from a distance. It had been fortunate that the fight was nearing to close when it happened. He had given an apologetic glance to Lee and Sakura, before he disappeared using the hiraishin. He has surreptitiously marked Sasuke with the seal upon their escape. It seemed it had proven a good foresight as he found himself at the other battlefield. It was a worrisome sight. Rubble was strewn everywhere. Tsunade struggling with a masked Atatsuki figure. Itachi stunned into a futile gesture. Dust had been thick in the air.

When it had cleared, Naruto let out a curse. Sasuke was at the brink of collapse. Only his white knuckled grip at his sword kept him upright. Danzo was a grotesque figure, a Frankenstein. His form littered with the eyes of the dead Uchiha clan. 

Vaguely, he heard Tsunade’s recriminations. Saw Itachi’s desperate denials. But all his attention was at Sasuke who squarely faced the man that had become a monster. The monster that had destroyed everything with a sweep of his iron fist. 

Naruto wanted to help, but Sasuke’s summon kept him still. The hawk had landed on his shoulder and had shaken its head in caution. It was not his fight, it seemed to say. He could only watch and pray. Naruto’s fists crushed the ofuda of protection given to him. He could only hold it close.

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Horror permeated the air. The sight of Danzo had engendered a feeling of outrage. The shinobi may be killers, liars even, but to use the bodies of the dead as mere component parts for your quest for strength was crossing the line to many. Tsunade could not help but feel sick at the sight, a soul deep sickness that seemed more like a condemnation. To think she had prided herself of the moral fortitude that was Konoha, only to see that they were all blind fools. Fools masquerading as saints when they were the same as any village that they have ever condemned. 

‘War makes monsters of us all,’ her mind whispered.

This will not happen again, she vowed. She will not let it ever come to life. She knew she will rage. When all is through, she will bring the might of her very clan’s name and fight Danzo tooth and nail. 

Sasuke did not care what anyone thought though. All his attention was at silent Konoha elder, who was wholly unrepentant even with his sins exposed for all to see. Sasuke bared his teeth into a rictus of a smile. “It makes me wonder,” he addressed the man. “Did you sent us to be killed in such a way in order to gain the mangekyou? Or did you know about the eternal mangekyou that you even ordered the Uchiha’s own son to kill them all?” 

Danzo sneered at those words. “Does it matter? You were a clan of traitors,” he condemned. “Better you had some use rather than polluting the air with your filth.”

“You right,” he spoke, voice whisper soft. “it doesn’t really matter does it? What matters is that it should end.”

“You can’t kill me,” Danzo barked out in incredulity. He drew himself up. Almost as if he saw himself as a king and a martyr, ready to face the rabble. “You can barely stand. You’re out of chakra.”

Sasuke pushed himself upright as he brought out the ofuda he kept with him. Danzo’s words brought nothing but scorn. “What makes you think I’m here for you?” Sasuke spoke derisively. “You don’t deserve my attention. I’m here for my family. They deserve peace, not rotting in your putrid body!”

Danzo roared with rage at the insult. The wind whipped at the force of his jutsu. Sasuke did not care. He let the prayer fly with the gust of wind. With the last of his chakra, he set it ablaze with the funeral katon, the phoenix seal to finish. His eyes shut to a close.

“When I reach Konoha,” Sasuke would remember telling Sorata as he prepared for his journey. “I think I will set this ofuda ablaze at my family’s memorial. I want to make sure I give them peace.”

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“Pen your wishes for the dead well, little Sasuke,” Kouya whispered to him as he held an ofuda up between his two fingers. “Pour all your will, your hopes, your love, and Suzaku will answer you.”

Sasuke watched mutely as deft hands swiftly folded into the phoenix seal and the paper charm burst into flames. The fire glinted in Kouya’s teary eyes. Sasuke rushed to envelope the man into a hug, offering what little comfort he could give.

“I’m sorry Kouya,” he consoled in voice muffled with tears as well. His beloved cousin had died, and the whole clan was still reeling in a grief-stricken haze. “I miss Shuisi too.”

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It was a strange sight to everyone. Sasuke’s seemingly illogical actions. There was no move to defend himself. He simply performed the last funeral rites as if making up for the one that was aborted when he was too young to finish. Itachi had desperately moved to interfere, but Danzo’s wind was too strong. Naruto so to wanted, but Garuda’s will held him stronger than any jutsu or seal. They both were left to watch helplessly. Suddenly, the ofuda’s fire suddenly roared white hot. It was without any chakra from Sasuke. Everyone could sense that he has spent all in that faint final funeral katon.

It was an inferno. The conflagration spread towards each gust and puff of the wind, trapping both men were at the epicentre. Sasuke stood unmoving. His head was tilted up in prayer and contemplation. The flames danced at his clothes and his hair as they whipped with the wind, but not one touched him. 

Danzo had started screaming. 

“How?,” he cried out. His sharingans have started to bubble and burn, seemingly with no rhyme nor reason. His flesh laid untouched, yet the stolen eyes have began to melt. The smell of burning flesh, redolent with grief and pain.

Sasuke opened his eyes to stare at the suffering sight before him. The wind and flame had stilled to a stop. 

“That is no ninjutsu,” he spoke ever so softly. “That is simply my prayer to Suzaku, to bless the dead and bring them peace.”

Danzo had collapsed in a heap. The eyes were all gone. Melted into a gory mess. Sasuke turned his back at the man when Itachi’s crow summon flew towards him. One of its eyes were rolling red.

Sasuke sheathed his sword and reached towards the bird. It perched itself at his hand while he brought it to face him. Shuisi’s familiar eye peered back, the genjutsu from its mangkeyou attempting the futile command. A sad smile danced on Sasuke’s lips. “It’s time you rested, dear cousin,” he whispered. The eye slowly crumbled to ash. A caw, and the crow flew away, free. 

“Sasuke,” Itachi called out. He stopped. He could not say anything any longer. There were too many things Itachi wanted to speak of, there were too many things he wished for, but he did not have the strength to speak of. In a way he remembered Sasuke’s parting words to him. Those words wherein his little brother challenged him to fulfil his wishes with his very own hands.

Sasuke raised his eyes and brought his gaze to bear upon his brother. The two stared at each other, one in pain, another in regret. In the end, it was the younger that broke the silence.

“I’ve forgotten that our parents forgave you,” Sasuke spoke in a hollowed voice. “No, it was more than that…They did say forgiveness was unnecessary.”

He paused as memories overtook them both. The fateful night of the massacre, they could still both remember their mother’s gore stained hands. Itachi could still feel the warmth of the lifeblood against the chill of her fingers. Sasuke could still see the bright red liquid, dripping from the delicate digits.

Uchiha Mikoto, as her life slowly seeped from her body, raised shaking hands to cradle her firstborn’s face. Her touch was whisper soft, so terribly gentle.

“It’s alright my boy,” she gurgled out in a sad sad voice. “It’s the things we do for the one we love.”

Her hands drop from his cheek, smearing it with bright red blood. She fell to the ground in a heap. Itachi could still feel the burning heat of her last caress. Sasuke could still remember his wails as he tried to bring life back to his mother’s rapidly cooling corpse. 

“I am their son,” Sasuke continued. The weight of those last words echoed between them. “And you, in the end, are an Uchiha thru and thru with all our follies and foibles.”

They would remember Uchiha Fugaku closing his eyes at Itachi’s incoming blade and simply saying, “My boys…”

Sasuke bestowed Itachi a faint bittersweet smile and sighed out, “But I must admit I am my own person, and I realised I cannot be like you or the clan that loved Konoha to your own detriment.”  
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It was over. A bit anticlimactic, Sasuke believed, but he was done. The lingering presence of his clan had faded away. All that was left of them was three broken men who would never be pieced back together. It did not matter to Sasuke though. He had done what he came to do. He wanted to give them peace. He wanted to complete the final funeral rites. It was time to rest. 

Sasuke turned towards Naruto and Garuda. Met both their relieved stares. He took a step and two, when at the corner of his eye, he saw Danzo stagger upright and hurtle to strike. The relieved expressions turned to horror. Sasuke absently noted the sharp gleam of the blade, the deadly precision in the swing, the ferocious snarl. His eyes closed. It seemed he will meet the fate of all those who wielded the mangekyou.

Distantly, Sasuke heard Naruto cried out in anger.

‘It seems I won’t be able to keep my promise,’ he thought. 

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VII - La Torre (XVI). At the End of the World

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Naruto collapsed on the grassy plain. He had dragged Sasuke’s insensate form with him to the ground. His heart beat like a drum, great sharp jabs that felt it would send him into a crashing mound of agony. He breathed. In, out. In, out, until his heart ever so slowly calmed. He turned exhausted eyes at Gamabunta who gave him an exasperated shake of its massive head before disappearing. 

He turned to look at his unconscious companion. It had been too close, watching as Danzo nearly skewered him. Naruto was nearly a fraction of a second to late. He thank his foresight with the hiraishin. He had been able to teleport to grab Sasuke and flee. He summoned Gamabunta and did not look back.

Naruto could feel a terrible rage and grief bubble through him. Remembering how the idiot didn’t even dodge. 

‘The suicidal fool’, Naruto thought viciously. He was so angry, thinking that Sasuke did not care whether he lived or died. That the selfish idiot didn’t even care about the people he would leave behind. Naruto choked back a sob. Was it relief, grief or anger? Who knows? Naruto did not even know what he felt.

“Interesting,” a cool voice interrupted his descent to a confusing morass of emotion. Naruto whirled to face the source of the voice. He found himself staring at the familiar masked man decked in the Akatsuki colours.

“Madara,” Naruto spat out. He muscles tensed, ready to fight. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Madara shook his head almost chidingly. Ire rose through Naruto at the sight, he can’t believe the gall of the man to stand here and judge. It was an overreaction, he knew, but he was spoiling for a fight. The man who he truly wanted to punch lay obliviously unconscious. 

“I came to see this through,” Madara spoke at last. There was strange tilt in his posture, a tension Naruto could not put a finger on. But he didn’t care to dissect the motives of manipulative bastards that looked at people as if they were chess pieces at a game.

Naruto burst out in belligerently. “I’m not going to lie quietly and…”

“You silly child,” Madara snapped back in equal annoyance. It put a stop on the steamroll of Naruto’s determination, he stared dumbly at the man. “Not everything is answered by fisticuffs,” the elder Uchiha continued almost haughtily, yet there was a certain almost entreating quality to his voice. “I am here to ask what you’re going to do?”

“Why do you care?”

“Answer me,” Madara spoke in his familiar imperious tones. Yet in an odd show of vulnerability, he removed his mask. It was a notion that Naruto has never seen in all the moments he had spied upon the Akatsuki and their shadowy puppet master. “Are you going to abandon him? Will you turn and crawl back to Konoha?

Naruto reared back, affronted. “Never! I go where he goes.”

His shout echoed through the air. Madara had turned the full force of his stare to Naruto. They studied each other, and ever so slowly, the tension between the two eased. Whatever they saw with the other, it was enough of a justification to calm them both. 

“That’s good enough for me,” Madara at last spoke. From the folds of his cloak, he brought out an ancient fan and tossed it to Naruto. “Here,” he spoke as Naruto fumbled to catch it. It was surprisingly heavy, Naruto observed, noting the stolid delicacy of the frame. It was a fan made out of iron, a war fan. The iron was ancient and well-used, but still lovingly cared for. 

“Give this to Sasuke,” Madara instructed, firm and resolute. “I think he deserves to carry Izuna’s tessen. It was the weapon passed down from each generation of clan priests,” he explained as his voice took a misty quality of nostalgia. “When my brother died, I couldn’t bear to let it go. It was my only link left to him, but now I think I can…Tell him that.”

Naruto could feel that he was simply gaping in surprise. It certainly got him an amusedly disdainful look, an expression he used to get from Sasuke, even Neiji and Sakura when he was being particularly dim. A pang of grief pulsed through him just as Madara turned to go.

“Wait,” he exclaimed. “What about Konoha, will you still…”

Naruto’s voice trailed off. Madara had simple stood as still as a statue, a sentinel born out of the shadowy depths of a bitter past. Naruto had gotten a raised brow in response. In a way, he understood why. His allegiance had already been stated. No one should serve two masters at a time, it will only bring in failure and tragedy. But still, old loyalties and loves are hard to erase. Naruto sighed out in contemplation, “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? But what are you going to do?”

Madara gave a start of surprise at the question. He peered curiously at Naruto. ‘Such a strange forgiving boy,’ he mused. He supposed the young man, nay, the young head’s companion deserved an honest answer. 

“Who knows?” Madara shrugged after a minute of silent contemplation. He glanced at Naruto before he turned to look at the horizon. “Maybe I’ll continue my quest. Or maybe I’ve done enough, so I can die.” 

His voice lowered into a hush. Giving a nod of farewell, he disappeared. He left Naruto standing, looking far out into the horizon where Konoha would be if he just moved forward. A final stare, as if memorising the near familiar skyline, and Naruto turned his back at it.

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Sasuke drifted to consciousness. Madara’s imperious tones and Naruto’s brash ones drifted to his ears. He managed to open his eyes and found himself staring at the blue blue sky. He struggled to get up. His body was a mass of pain. He was surprised to find himself alive. When Danzo had moved to kill him, he had expected the man to succeed. There had been no impetus for him to live, Sasuke had done all that he felt he needed to do.

He found himself staring at Naruto’s equally azure eyes. The man’s brow was furrowed. His features were set into a ferocious scowl. Sasuke realised they were both alone. Maybe he had dreamed of Madara’s voice, or maybe the elder had left, but it wasn’t so important. What wholly captured his attention was the seething tangle coming from his then teammate. He gave a bemused glance at Naruto, confused as to why the man was so affected. It was only his life, nothing else.

“What..”

“You idiot!” Naruto roared as he lunged to grasp Sasuke’s collar. His hands were quivering in rage. He was literally shaking Sasuke with sheer fury. “Why did you just stand there. Did you want to die?!”

Sasuke’s features softened at that final shout. Naruto’s voice had echoed in the plain. He looked like he was ready to crumble, all that pent up pressure expelled by his holler. Sasuke didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how he could explain his state of mind. He had been so tired, and now everything had been finished. To Sasuke there was nothing left. There was simply none. 

“I still haven’t found my reason for living,” Sasuke at last explained ever so gently. He let his hand rest at Naruto’s trembling ones. Steady, he had wanted to say. You’ll be alright, he willed the dramatic dead-last to understand.

“You selfish fool,” Naruto lamented. “You blind blind idiot.” He gave a short barked laugh. “Then let’s go and search for it together, no matter how long it takes.”

Sasuke could feel his eyes widen in shock at the statement. He couldn’t say anything. His mind felt fuzzy. The only thing he felt certain was the whistling wind at his ears. He felt his mouth move. He whispered out. “And If I can’t?” 

“I’ll still be with you,” Naruto replied in equal fond gentleness. Slowly, carefully, he enveloped Sasuke into a hug. “Then maybe, in time, I’ll be enough for you. That we’ll be enough for each other. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sasuke agreed as he closed his eyes. He buried his face at Naruto’s shoulder as if to shut the world. The arms that enfolded him were warm and comforting. Distantly, he could hear Garuda’s incoming screech of happiness as the hawk slowly circled towards them.

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Sorata peered at the horizon. He noted a distant figure that was swiftly moving towards the temple. It was a surprising sight, the temple and its lands have all but been forgotten. Rarely did anyone knowingly come to visit this part of the world. He squinted to get a better view when the form morphed into two figures riding a hawk’s back. A smile tugged his lips. The figure of the hawk was too familiar. It could only be Garuda, and for sure, one of the figures was young master Sasuke. Though he did wonder about the companion. Heaving his ancient body upward, Sorata went out to the courtyard to greet the returning figures. 

“Well young master,” Sorata addressed Sasuke who was dismounting off Garuda. He gave the hawk a questioning stare, who returned it with a near grin. His heart light, his eyes nearly devoured the young man’s form. He noted the cuts and bruises, and the constellation of pain his clothes could not hide, but it did not detract Sorata from the thought that the young man was here and alive. “Have you come to join us?”

“Yes,” Sasuke replied simply, much to Sorata’s pleasure. It wasn’t just because of the answer, but because the young Uchiha clan head’s form radiated a sense of peace and lightness. No longer was he seeing a man wrapped in the hollows of grief and betrayal. Now all he saw was a confident young man with his firm stance, fluid movements, and the easy way he wore his sword, the Kusanagi. Sorata surreptitiously glance at the blond companion, noting the gentle way the man looked at the young master or the equally soft look young master would bestow. It was a fine sight to see.

“I see you bought company. Am I to assume you have found your reason for living?”

Sasuke stared at Sorata, at first in surprise then in amusement. The question had been bold, but the old priest had looked too content for Sasuke to find any offence. Sasuke met the old man’s joyful gaze, and simply replied. “Perhaps…”

Sasuke turned to give Naruto a gentle smile. Naruto stared at him in astonishment, and a slow dawning delight.

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FIN

**Author's Note:**

> An earlier work of mine which I'm still quite fond of.


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